


An Apple Cleft In Two

by Anonymous



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/F, Inappropriate Use of Flesh Magic, Reluctant Consent, Somnophilia, Twincest, Ye Olde Flesh Magic Strap-On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Twincest! Flesh magic! Unhealthy codependency!Warning:This fic contains 0% of your daily value of good consent, and may be harmful to your health.
Relationships: Coronabeth Tridentarius/Ianthe Tridentarius
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51
Collections: Anonymous, TLT Kink Meme





	An Apple Cleft In Two

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed.
> 
>  **Prompt:** _Hoping to see something where Ianthe convinces Coronabeth to bone. Ianthe is very loving but also...you know...Ianthe. Would prefer if Coronabeth is reluctant but does agree and is into it, nothing that is straight up noncon. Would love for it to lean into there unhealthy codependency. Bonus points for flesh magic strap because you know Ianthe must have tried that at least once._
> 
> -[TLT Kink Meme](https://tlt-kink.dreamwidth.org/583.html?thread=42055)

Oh, don't be a prude. It's not a surprise that it happened. Frankly, it's more of a surprise that it took so long before it did.

We were sharing a bed at Canaan House-- we'd always shared a bed, you understand, because she cried so hard she puked the one time we didn't-- and she woke me up because she was dreaming so loudly. It was obvious what kind of dream it was, too, because she was grinding back against my hips. It wasn't unpleasant-- she's always been well-endowed, there and elsewhere-- but it did mean I had no chance of getting back to sleep without doing something about it.

She’d drawn up one of her thighs nearly to her chest, so it wasn’t hard for me to reach between her thighs to confirm. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I’d never touched her there before. Of course I’d touched her-- we’d touched each other-- when we’d hit puberty and she was blooming and I-- well, I remained a necromancer. It was experimentation, exploration, perfectly innocent and natural. And then, later, when she was eighteen, _she_ asked _me_ for help, because her lover of the week wasn’t getting her off. I could have told her that if he couldn’t _find_ her clit it didn’t matter how sensitive she was, but she’d asked and said _please_ , so I did what she asked and fiddled with the nerve endings there until she was almost too sensitive. I enlarged it a little bit, too, for aesthetics, and sent her on her way. She left with the flush of arousal bright on her cheeks, but that wasn’t my problem.

She dumped him less than twenty-four hours later, but she never asked me to undo what I had done. So I didn’t.

So, anyway, she had soaked through her panties, so I pulled them aside to trace that familiar flesh. My hand came back dripping. There was no way I was getting back to sleep without resolving the issue, so I clamped my wet hand over her mouth and shook her until she woke.

“Shhhhhh,” I whispered in her ear. “If you’re too loud, you’ll wake Babs.” This was a lie; Babs always slept like the dead and anyway I’d skinned over the shells of his ears and filled in the ear canals so the drums wouldn’t vibrate in the most effective bio-earplugs I’d devised. Well, I’d needed to; Corona kept bringing lovers over and she was never quiet. I could fix it before morning. He would never know.

She whimpered against my hand and went limp. Her hips kept twitching, but this was her effort at compliance. I rewarded her accordingly by allowing her to speak.

“Ianthe-- what--?” She reached back for the hardness pressed against her bottom.

While she’d slept, I’d made myself a protuberance-- fine, we can go with _dick_ if it suits you, but it wasn’t really. I’ve done that before, but this time, the plumbing was all different. I’d arranged the gland configuration so that it would self-lubricate along the whole length when I wanted it to.

I’d done it because I’d thought that was the equipment she preferred-- this was before she started making eyes at every female cavalier at Canaan House, you understand-- because it was still almost a challenge, because I could. Maybe because I liked it. Oh, it doesn’t matter why I did it. All that matters is that she’d wrapped her long soft fingers around it and stroked me, even before she was fully awake.

“You have a problem. I can help you.” I’d smeared some of her wetness against her cheek, but my hand was still damp as I trailed it down her throat, past her collarbone, to trace a circle around her breast. Her nightgown was so low-cut, they were practically falling out anyway; I just helped them along.

She made a noise. One part shock, one part guilt, one part need; stir and garnish with cock. A heady drink. I covered her mouth again, and, for good measure, rolled her onto her back so I could sit on her rib cage with my dick in the valley of her breasts.

“You woke me up. Neither of us will get any sleep unless you deal with this. Let me help you.”

Her eyes were open wide and blown with lust. Under my hand, she shook her head no.

“Why not?” I demanded, in undertones. I let my cock grow slick so that it would slide against her skin.

She looked down at it. Fascinated in spite of herself. “Does it work?”

“I’m a flesh magician. There’s no chance you’ll conceive.” She looked both relieved and disappointed, as if that particular taboo thought had gotten stuck sharp between her teeth, and she couldn’t stop worrying it with her tongue. Frankly, it had some appeal for me, too-- to see her swollen and marked with my touch, the child another cord with which I could bind her to me? But no, the repercussions would be too great, and I had cord enough already.

Still, she hesitated. I had work to do in the morning: I wanted to satisfy her so we could go back to sleep. We could spend all night negotiating intimacy, or I could take control. The choice was obvious.

I reached for the cold box next to the bed, pulled forth a chunk-- not human, I think it was some kind of fish, even then I didn’t need human flesh for something this simple-- and anyway I formed it into a rough cylinder. _Fine_ , it was another dick. I don’t know why you’re so fascinated with them. Or maybe I do, but never tell me the details. I don’t want to know.

“I’ll even help you be quiet,” I told her. “Tap twice if you want me to stop.” And I brought the spare dick to her lips. She parted them so prettily for me, and I slid it between her teeth. Lifted her head ever so gently so I could let the flesh grow around her skull to secure it in place. “Comfortable?”

She didn’t answer me, of course-- she only moaned against the gag. Her nipples were hard with the pleasure, though, and she didn’t tap out, so I took that as permission. 

You’ve never met my sister, so you don’t know about her tits. They’re legendary. Her best quality, frankly. A lot of people used to think I was jealous, but if we’re being honest I got the better end of the deal: I got the view every day of my life, and she had to deal with them. They ached every time she was on her period.

They were probably aching that night, too, so I took pity on her and gathered them up in my hands, pressing them against my cock. Letting myself grow wetter, I fucked her like that, with the end of my length brushing her collarbone with every thrust. No, _not_ the head, I told you that it wasn’t a penis. Since you ask, it was ribbed, actually. For her pleasure.

She was gorgeous like that. I kneaded her tits just enough to make her take deep desperate breaths through her nose that made her chest heave, pinched the skin around her areolae so that she couldn’t ignore the fact that I hadn’t touched her nipples yet. From the noises she was making that the gag couldn’t muffle, she very much wanted me to to touch her nipples. But it always paid to make Corona wait before you gave her anything she wanted.

“You want it, baby, don’t you?” I whispered into her ear. “Nod so I know how much you want it.”

She nodded frantically, and I let her beg silently like that for several long seconds while I calculated the angle. When I was ready, I took vicious hold of her nipples. Her hips came clear off the bed, even with me sitting on her, and I think she would have screamed if I hadn’t gagged her. It was a good thing I’d fleshed over Babs’s ears. One of the glands on my cock released a stream of clear fluid to land on her face and drip all over her tits. This was for my benefit, not hers, but it was a good look on her anyway.

Eventually her wild bucking gave way to quiet twitching under me. She wasn’t done, and I wasn’t done with her, either.

“Spread for me,” I told her, and when she flung her legs wide, I moved between them, hiked up her nightgown, and snapped the thin strings that held her ruined panties on her hips so I could cast them away. Parting her labia so I would have an unobstructed view, I looked to see what effect I’d had on her. It was magnificent. Her clit was rigid with desire, so swollen with blood its hood couldn’t cover it. And she was absolutely drenched. I swirled my fingers through the mess, and she moved against my hand.

I swatted her thigh. “Hold still.”

She whimpered against her gag. I waited until she obeyed. She looked painfully aroused, like even the slightest touch might hurt, so I took her clit between thumb and forefinger of the hand that wasn’t holding her open and pinched, hard. Her eyes opened wide with shock. Every roll of fat on her body vibrated with sensation, but she stayed still.

“Good girl,” I whispered, soothing her aching clit with my thumb. “You want me to fuck you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back, breathing hard.

“Nod for me.” I took my thumb off her clit, letting it stand there, pulsing and exposed in the cool air of Canaan House. “Or I can stay here for the rest of the night. Maybe Babs will wake up and see you like this, with my cum drying on your face and your tits. See how you get so horny that you’ll spread your legs for the first person who asks.”

She took two more breaths, and then she nodded. 

“Turn onto your side.” I wanted to be able to reach around and touch her anywhere.

Without prompting, she turned and used her hands to move the fleshy parts of her legs apart. Exposing herself to me.

At her kind invitation, I lined myself up and pressed forward. She was so slick, I slid inside with no effort. Her heat enveloped me. I made my dick grow inside her, swelling until her cunt stretched tight around me. I wanted her to be sore in the morning. I wanted her to remember what she had done and what we had done together.

I waited until she started to fidget on my cock before I fucked her in earnest. Well, actually, I made it just a little bit bigger first. Corona has always been resilient, and I didn’t want to go easy on her. Anyway, she loved it. Loved that I was ruthless as I thrust into her with that thick textured appendage, loved how rough I was with her tits, loved it when my teeth found her shoulders. I lost track of how many times she came around me after the third one. It wasn’t worth counting, because she remained in a state of tortured bliss the whole time, moaning against the gag. Her inner walls pulsed at intervals, and it took a lot of effort to tire her out. 

When I judged that she was exhausted but not quite satisfied, I shrank myself and flooded her cunt with fluid as I went. I wanted to leave her wrung out and soaked and wanting just a little bit more. I wanted her to come back to me for more. Only I knew the depths of her depravity. Only I could be this good for her. As I slipped free of her twitching cunt, we both knew it.

Thumbing her oversensitive clit one last time for good measure, I released the flesh holding the gag to her face. It flopped out onto her pillow, and she convulsed against me.

I tucked her sweaty hair behind her ear. “Isn’t that better, baby girl? Now we can get some sleep. You can clean yourself up in the morning.”

She groaned, and her voice sounded raw. Maybe I’d made the gag just a teensy bit too long. Oops.

Her tits were bruised, she had love bites on her back where her clothes would cover them, and I knew for a fact that the sweet soreness between her thighs would linger at least until lunchtime.

So that’s the story of the best I’ve had. What about you?

**Author's Note:**

> _but who is Ianthe talking to_


End file.
